Every morning, Emily awoke to the gentle patter of rain against her window and grey clouds hovering above the streets of Manchester. The weather seemed to reflect her moodanxious, uncertain, and filled with nagging doubts.
For the third week in a row, her husband, Michael, packed his holdall and announced,
My parents are feeling poorly again. Ill need to spend a couple of days with them.
The first time, Emily was sympathetic. Margaret, her mother-in-law, had recently had an operation for gallstones. Harold, her father-in-law, had been struggling with high blood pressure. At sixty-five, health concerns were natural.
Of course, go ahead, Emily said. Send my regards and let them know Im thinking of them.
Michael left every Friday evening and returned Monday morning, exhausted and withdrawn as if hed just returned from a difficult shift. If Emily asked about his parents, hed answer briefly:
Theyre better. Still frail though.
Whats troubling your mum exactly? Emily would ask.
Its everything. Just age, Michael would reply, brushing her off.
The second time it happened the next week.
Again? Emily looked surprised.
Mums taken a tumble. Dads a bundle of nerves. I need to go, Michael explained, stuffing clean shirts into his bag.
Should I come too? I can help out, she offered.
No, dont bother. The house is too cramped. Its best you stay home.
Emily agreed. Shed always kept her distance with Michaels parents, choosing not to intrude or offer unsolicited advice. Margaret was a reserved womannot especially warm. Their conversations were polite, but not intimate.
The third trip came the following weekend.
Whats the issue this time? Emily asked, watching Michael pack jeans and a jumper.
Dads health is really bad. His blood pressures all over the place. Mum cant manage on her own.
Have you called a doctor?
Yeah. You know what GPs are like these daysnot much help. Prescribed some pills and left.
Michael sounded convincing, but his words seemed rehearsedlacking emotion, as if he werent truly concerned.
Michael, maybe its better your parents go to hospital?
They dont want to. Theyre scared of hospitals. Say its easier at home.
He closed his bag and pecked Emily on the cheek.
Dont worry. Ill try to get back quickly.
After he left, Emily was left alone with her growing unease. She thought back to the last time shed spoken to Margaret on the phoneit had been a month ago, when her mother-in-law rang to wish Emilys friend a happy birthday. Margaret had been cheerful, asking about Emilys job and chatting about her allotment. No mention of health woes; quite the opposite, boasting about her tomato harvest and her plans for winter.
Odd, Emily murmured as she gazed out at the autumn drizzle. If Margarets really unwell, why hasnt she called? She always did before.
On Monday, Michael returned even gloomier.
How are your parents? Emily asked.
Dads better. Mums still weak.
What did the doctor say?
What doctor? Michael looked confused.
The GP you said visited.
Oh, right. Said to keep an eye out, go to hospital if things get worse.
He changed clothes quickly and sat at his computer, uninterested in conversation.
That evening when Michael was in the shower, Emily picked up his mobile. Shed never checked his phone before, but something urged her to look.
There were no calls to or from his parents. Not a single contact with Margaret or Harold over the past two weeks.
Hows that possible? whispered Emily. If Michaels staying with them, why hasnt anyone called?
Usually, when Michael was away, his parents would ring Emily at least once to check in. This timenothing.
His fourth visit came the following Friday.
Off to your parents again? Emily confirmed.
Yeah. Mums got a temperature. I think shes caught a cold.
Michael, maybe I should go with you? Help look after them.
Theres no need for extra worries, Michael replied sharply. Youve got plenty of work yourself.
Its not a problem. After all, theyre your parents. Theyre mine too.
Emily, dont. Its too cramped, and youll just catch whatever theyve got.
Michael spoke with conviction, but avoided her gaze. He packed hurriedly, as though late for a train.
What train are you taking tonight? asked Emily.
The usual one. Seven oclock.
Shall I walk you to the station?
No need. Ill get there myself.
He kissed her and rushed out. Emily was left in their flat, surrounded by unspoken questions and odd coincidences.
Her Saturday morning was spent pondering. Her thoughts tangled, leaving her restless. Accusing Michael without proof seemed unfair, but the oddities were stacking up fast.
Am I being a suspicious wife? Emily scolded herself. Maybe his parents really are ill and Im imagining things.
By lunchtime, Emily resolved to act. If her in-laws were sick, theyd be glad of her care. Shed bake a homemade apple pie, buy some fruit and treats, and pay them a surprise visit.
Ill surprise themand Michael too, she decided.
In the kitchen, Emily made a mess preparing her mums signature pie. While it baked, she nipped out for oranges, bananas, and juice.
By three, everything was ready. The fragrant pie cooled on the table, the fruit bag waited by the door. Emily donned a nice dress, dabbed on a touch of makeup, and set off for the station.
On the train, she pictured Michaels expressionhis eyes wide when the door opened to find Emily, arms full of treats.
Emily? How did you get here? hed stammer.
I came to see youto check on the sick.
The trip to Michaels parents took ninety minutes. Margaret and Harold lived in a small town near Leeds, in a two-storey house with a garden. Michael had grown up there, knowing every corner.
Emily approached the familiar gate and rang the bell. A minute later, Margaret appeared.
Emily? she exclaimed in surprise. What are you doing here?
Margaret looked wellrosy cheeks, bright eyes, no sign of illness. She wore comfy sweats, hair pulled back neatly.
Hello, Margaret, Emily stammered. I came to visit Michael said youre unwell.
Unwell? Margaret laughed. Who told you that? Were fit as fiddles! Where did you hear such nonsense?
Emily felt her face flush, heart pounding. Suddenly, the bags in her hands seemed heavy.
But Michael He said he was caring for you, that you werent well.
Caring for us? Margaret shook her head. Emily, we havent seen him for a week! Or more, maybe!
Harolds voice echoed from inside: Whos at the door, Margaret?
Emilys come, Margaret called back.
Harold appeared, a sturdy seventy-year-old in work trousers and a checked shirt, probably fresh from the shed.
Oh, our daughter-in-law! Harold beamed. What brings you here? Dont see you often!
Harold, wheres Michael? Emily asked directly.
How should I know? Harold shrugged. Maybe at work? Or home with you?
He said he was here, looking after youand told me you were ill.
Harold and Margaret glanced at each other.
Emily, neither of us is ill. Michael hasnt been by in ages. When did we last see him, Margaret?
St Swithins Day, Margaret recalled. July. He was here for Harolds birthday.
Right. Not a call since, Harold confirmed.
Inside, Emily felt everything crumble. Every one of Michaels explanations, every visit to his ill parents, had been a lie. Plain, deliberate deceit.
Emily, whats happening? Margaret grew concerned. You look pale. Come in, have some tea.
Thank you, but I really must go, Emily murmured.
Go? Youve only just arrived. And brought us pie, I see! Margaret insisted.
Another time, Emily handed the treats over. Enjoy.
Wheres Michael then? Harold asked. Why isnt he here with you?
I dont know, Emily replied honestly.
Margaret and Harold walked her to the gate, exchanging confused looks. Emily headed for the bus stop, barely feeling her feet.
Her thoughts were chaotic: Where had Michael spent his weekends? With whom? Why use his parents as a cover? And just how long had this gone on?
The bus to the station took half an hour. Emily gazed out at the grey September landscape, piecing her thoughts together. Every visit to Michaels supposedly sick parents now felt like a cruel joke. Each explanationa manipulative lie.
So while I was worried about his parents, he, Emily couldnt finish the thought.
On the train, she nearly phoned Michaelbut stopped herself. What could she ask? Where were you? With whom? Why lie?
Better to wait for home. To look him in the eye when he weaved another story.
Emily got home around eight in the evening. The flat was silent and empty. She sat on the sofa and waited.
Michael returned Monday morning, as usual. Keys rattled in the lock, door opened. He stepped in, tired and rumpled, still carrying his holdall.
Morning, he muttered, heading to the bedroom. How was your weekend?
Fine, Emily replied calmly. And yours?
Hard. Parents are really struggling.
Oh? Whats wrong with them exactly?
Mums got a fever, Dad was checking his blood pressure all night. Its been tough.
He spoke without looking at her, sorting dirty washing and unpacking pills.
Michael, Emily called softly. Look at me.
He glanced up, uncertainty in his eyes.
Where were you this weekend?
At my parents, like I said.
Your parents are well. They havent seen you in a week.
Michael froze, shirt in hand.
What are you talking about?
I visited them yesterday. Wanted to help with the sick. Margaret simply laughed when I asked about illness.
Michaels face paled.
You went to my parents? Why?
Because I believed you. I thought they were unwell.
Emily, you dont understand
Dont I? Emily interrupted. Youve been lying to me for a month. Using your parents as cover.
Its not a lie
Then what is it? Emily stepped closer. Where were you on weekends? With whom?
Michael turned to the window.
I cant explain right now.
Cant or wont?
Emily, please trust me. Its not what you think.
What do I think? Emily asked icily.
That That Im seeing someone else.
And are you?
Silence. A minute passed, then another. Finally, Michael sighed heavily.
Yes, he admitted quietly.
Emily nodded. Oddly, she felt no angerjust emptiness and clarity.
I see.
Emily, its not serious! Just it happened
Did it start a month ago?
No, earlier. But I didnt know how to tell you.
So you lied about your parents health?
I needed time to figure things out. To know what I want.
And now you do?
Michael said nothing.
Im asking: do you know what you want?
No, he said honestly.
Well, I do, Emily said. I want someone who doesnt lie. Who doesnt hide behind sick parents for some fling.
Its not a fling
Call it whatever you want. The results the sameyouve deceived me for a month.
She went to the bedroom and pulled a small suitcase from the wardrobe.
What are you doing? Michael asked nervously.
Im packing, Emily replied, filling her case with essentials. Im staying with a friend. While we sort things out.
What do you meansort things out?
You: your feelings. Me: the divorce paperwork.
Emily, dont rush! Cant we talk calmly
Whats there to talk about? Emily closed the suitcase. About how you made me worry over your healthy parents for weeks?
I never wanted to hurt you
Thats why you hurt me even more.
Emily took documents from the safe, slipped her phone and charger in her handbag.
If you want to explain, call me. But I doubt youve got excuses for a month of lying.
What about our home? Our family?
Family means trust, Emily replied. As for the home, well sort it out with lawyers.
She walked to the door.
Wait, Michael pleaded. Cant we try again? Ill finish things, start over with you
From where? With another lie about sick parents?
I wont lie, I promise.
Michael, she paused at the threshold. You promised to be a faithful husband. Look how that worked out.
Emily left the flat and closed the door. The corridor was quiet, the only sound a distant radio playing upstairs.
Outside, a light rain peppered the pavementjust as when all this began. Emily raised her collar and headed for the Underground.
Her phone rang as she descended the steps. Michaels name flashed on the screen. Emily ignored it and slipped the phone into her bag.
Her decision was clear: she could no longer live with someone whod used supposedly sick parents as cover for infidelity. Trust was shattered, the family gone.
Ahead lay meetings with solicitors, dividing property, and starting anew. But at least this new chapter would be honest. No more lies about sick parents, no more secret weekends with someone else.
As the Underground whisked Emily into the unknown, she realised that moving forward with integrity was more important than comforting yourself with comforting falsehoods. Sometimes life forces you to choose honesty over familiarity, and thats when you begin to truly value yourself.
